I Am What Is Left
by Handpicked Happiness
Summary: Rory is haunted by his own thoughts. His suspicions and insecurities keep pushing him closer to the edge. Warnings: Angst like you wont believe / Major character death. Just a one shot.


_Don't lose your soul as your eyes roll shut  
Don't worry, it will be over  
Hold on though you're alone, I am there with you  
That much at least I can promise…._

_Skin And Bones - David J Roch_

* * *

He never expected it to be so easy.

A gentle hum is rocking up through the soles of his bare feet, usually he didn't notice it, he'd spent so much time with the warm sound and the small, constant vibrations running through everything he touched that it became second nature to him, background noise. But now the noise is distinct, and aside from his own footsteps, the only sound in the hallway. But lately another sound has settled into the background of his thoughts. He can never completely silence it, but it's never screaming at him, just poking incessantly at the back of his mind, speaking in a whisper just behind his ear.

Sometimes his own thoughts scare him.

The TARDIS feels like a completely different place at night, the soft orange and yellows become cold blues and pale greys that throw his shadow into distorted figures on the walls. The air is chilled, he could feel it seeping through his thin shirt and sinking into his bones, crisp air burning in through his lungs. Amongst his musings he almost forgets what he's doing, where he's going, but it's not long before it comes back to him. He can feel his heart pounding away against his ribcage, his stomach twisting in a knot and his chest clenching tight. His head spins as the thoughts rush through, the floodgates opening as each unsightly suspicion rears its ugly face. He takes a moment to steady himself, fighting back the thoughts so he can focus.

He can still hear them, he can always hear them.

Hallways seem endless in the TARDIS, and he's sure he'd never come close to finding them all. The right door finds him easily, he knows it's the right door, he can feel it. With a surprisingly steady hand he pushes the door and it swings open silently, the lights are off inside. He doesn't move, he can't, he just stands in the doorway. It's a large room, larger than necessary, though when you have all the space in the world you don't really need to be stingy. Opposite the door, on the other side of the room, there is a bed. It's large and the covers are half hanging off the edge, carelessly kicked and tossed about.

Still he doubts himself, even now.

When he finds the strength to move, he takes three small steps into the room, pauses again, waits, and breathes. He can see him now, sprawled out amongst the tangle of sheets half way down the mattress. His dark hair a mess on the pillow and contrasting starkly with his pale complexion, which is only more washed out and pale by the cold light. Moving closer to the bed now, his features were vulnerable, completely unbarred. His face was contorted in discomfort, brows furrowed over deep-set eyes, mouth in a tight line. He's haunted too.

Maybe he doesn't have to do this.

A few strands of dark hair are pasted to the other man's forehead with sweat, a small sound escapes the man on the bed - a whimper, it's barely there, and for a moment he thinks he's imagined it. Maybe he can fix this, fix himself. Looking down at the man he feels a pang of guilt deep in his chest. He's haunted, he knows. He knows what it feels like to be broken down. To be weak. Weak. That's all it takes. Even though he's the one who thought of it, the word turns him around, reminds him. His hands clench into fists.

He knows why he's doing this.

He won't be weak, he can't afford to be weak. He needs to silence the noise in his head, get his life back. This isn't normal. This man isn't natural. He's spent too long in this world, seeing things he shouldn't, putting her in danger. Her. She's not meant for all this, they were fine before this, before him. They were normal. But now he sees the way she admires this man, this stupid, impossible man who fell out of the sky and ruined their lives. His hands flex. He breathes in, leaning down towards the bed.

He's close enough to count his breaths, his final breaths.

Closing his hands around the throat before him, he pauses, hesitating. Green eyes fly open in alarm as the body beneath him jerks. Pale hands fly up from the mattress, grasping at his arms. In a panic he clenches tight, fingers pressing into the flesh of his neck. His hands clutch at him, fingernails scratching his skin and clawing down his arms, drawing blood. The pain is lost to him, muted by the adrenaline pumping profusely through his veins. He's thrashing beneath his hands now. He pushes back harder, leaning onto him to keep him restrained on the bed. His green eyes are frantic, lips forming a cry that doesn't make a sound; a strangled name that he cannot decipher. Clenching his eyes shut he presses harder, hands going numb.

He cannot watch.

It's not too much longer before his struggles become sluggish, fingers clutching weakly at his face, trying to push him away, pleading silently. And then there is nothing. He unwinds his fingers; they tingle with pain and stiffness. The red marks left of his neck are vicious, he traces them lightly with a finger. His eyes are still open. Open and empty. He doesn't notice it right away but wet trails are left on his own cheeks, tears he didn't know he'd shed.

* * *

That's always where Rory wakes up. Breathing hard he pulls himself up slowly, trying not to stir Amy beside him, not that she'd wake up, she'd sleep through almost anything. But he soon realises she's not there. Within half a second the noises in his head have picked up, poking him, laughing at him, handing him suspicion after suspicion. The sheets on her half of the bed are pulled back. He glances towards the bathroom, the light is off. The bedroom door is open just a fraction. He gets out of bed, padding quietly to the door.

He can hear her voice trickling down the hallway, only slightly louder than the underlying hum of the TARDIS. He follows the sound down to the end of the hall where it splits in two, but she's stopped talking, he can't tell where the sound was coming from. And then he hears another voice, off to the left, deeper, male. The Doctor. The laughter is a chorus in his ears now, whispers over whispers, individually quiet but together a cacophony on insecurity.

Following their voices he walks as silently as possible, forcedly keeping his breath under control. _I don't know…_she says. _Just talk to him_. He replies. _…doesn't understand…won't believe me._ Rory turns another corner and can see the little sliver of light from underneath flooding a patch of floor in the hallway. He stops. _Do you want to go home?_ The Doctor asks, his voice is low, hesitant. This isn't something they ever talk about. Her reply is instant, no second thought. _No, never._

He's heard enough. Rory makes his way back to their room, leaving the door open just a fraction. He climbs into bed, leaving her side undisturbed. He closes his eyes and he waits. It's at least another half an hour before he hears Amy's footsteps in the hall. A few seconds later the steps are muffled by the carpet. And then she's climbing into bed next to him. He doesn't stir. Beside him he feels her let out a breath before settling in under the sheets.

Rory waits until he thinks she's asleep, and then waits a little longer. Unable to bring himself to move, just watching her, her pale face, her bright hair. The way she murmurs in her sleep, his doubts create fake words on her lips, fake names, feeding his insecurity. He slips out of bed carefully, pulling the sheets back up around Amy. He glances at her once more before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him. Rory walks calmly to the Doctors room.

He never expected it to be so easy.

* * *

_**AN; I know it's short. But I don't want to touch it, I like it as is. I'm also too scared to write more.  
**__**I like exploring these sides of characters, the dark side. Perhaps i'll even try and take on the Doctor and his dark side, we all know he has one.**_


End file.
